six years now, knew about the shop and was not afraid to say what she thought about her mistress’s life.
‘No, we wouldn’t,’ Phyllida agreed, equally straight-faced. ‘So I’ll have a nice brisk walk and you can take a rug and a journal and sit on one of the benches beside the reservoir so the proprieties will be observed.’
It was just after six when they set out, weaving through the grid of streets that would take them into Green Park. Around them the St James’s area was waking up. Maids swept front steps, others, yawning, set out with empty baskets to do the early marketing. Delivery carts were pulling up at the back entrances for the numerous clubs, hells and shops that served this antheap of aristocrats, rakehells, high-class mistresses and respectable households. The sprawl covered the gentle slopes down to the old brick Tudor palace of St James and, beyond it, St James’s Park.
That would be too risky for an early-morning walk, Phyllida knew. Dolly mops and all their sisters of the night would be emerging from their places of business in the shrubberies, along with the occasional guardsman hurrying back to barracks having served a different kind of clientele altogether.
The early riders would make for the long tracks of Hyde Park, leaving Green Park as a quiet backwater until at least nine. ‘You can sit and read while I go past the lodge and the small pond down to Constitution Hill and back,’ Phyllida suggested as they turned up the Queen’s Walk towards Piccadilly. ‘Unless you want to come with me?’
‘You look in the mood for walking out a snit,’ Anna observed. ‘You’ll do that better alone. Who upset you?’
‘Oh, just some wretched lordling newly arrived in town and shocked to the core to discover he’s been flirting all unwittingly with a baseborn woman.’
‘More fool he. You shouldn’t let him upset you.’ There was nothing to say to that, but Anna seemed to read plenty into Phyllida’s silence. ‘I suppose you were liking him up to then.’
‘Well enough.’ She shrugged.
‘Handsome, is he?’
‘Oh, to die for and well he knows it.’ And he had seemed kind. He had a sense of humour, he loved his sister, he was eminently eligible. If she had not been who she was, then this morning she would have woken hoping for a bouquet from him by luncheon. What would it be like to be courted by a man like that, to hope for a proposal of marriage, to look forward to a future of happiness and children?
‘A good brisk walk, then, and some stones to kick instead of his foolish head.’ Anna surveyed the benches. ‘That one will do me, right in the sun.’
‘Thank you, Anna.’ The maid’s brisk common sense shook her out of her self-indulgent wonderings. ‘If you get chilled, come and meet me.’
She waved and set off diagonally along the path towards the Queen’s House on the far side of the Park. The early sunlight glinted off the white stone in the distance and the standard hung limp against the flagstaff in the still air. Phyllida breathed in the scents of green things breaking their winter sleep to thrust through the earth. That was better. When she was fully awake, feeling strong and resolved, then the weakening dreams could be shut safely away.
Rooks wheeled up from the high trees where they were building nests, jackdaws tumbled like acrobats through the air, courting or playing. Ahead of her the magpies had found something that had died during the night, a rat or a rabbit, she supposed, eyeing their squabbles with distaste as they fought for unsavoury scraps. She would have to detour off the path to avoid the mess.
As though a stone had been thrown into the midst of them the birds erupted up into the air, flapping and screeching at something that landed right next to their prize. For a second she thought it must be a bird of prey, then it turned its grey head and huge black beak in her direction, assessing her with intelligent eyes.
‘Lucifer!’ Surely the city had not been invaded by these grey-hooded crows? It stopped sidling up to the food and began to hop towards her. ‘No, go away! I don’t want you, you horrible bird. Shoo!’
As she spoke she heard the thud of hooves on turf coming up fast behind. The big bay horse thundered past, then circled and slowed as its rider reined it in and brought it back towards her at a walk. ‘Lucifer, come here.’ The crow flapped up to perch on the rider’s shoulder, sending the horse skittering with nerves. The man on its back controlled it one-handed and lifted his hat to her with the other.
‘Miss Hurst. I apologise for Lucifer, but he seems to like you.’
Of course, it had to be Lord Clere.
Chapter Five
Phyllida looked from bird to master. ‘The liking is not mutual, I assure you.’ Why couldn’t Lord Clere ride in Hyde Park like everyone else? Why couldn’t he ride with the fashionable crowd in the afternoon? Why couldn’t he leave the country altogether?
‘I imagine the dislike applies to me as well,’ he said. ‘May I walk with you?’
‘I can hardly stop you. This is a public park.’ It was ungracious and she did not much care. Phyllida started walking again, the crow flapped down to claim its prize on the grass and Ashe Herriard swung out of the saddle.
‘Is it? Public, I mean? I assumed it was, but there are no other riders. I was beginning to wonder if I had broken some dire rule of etiquette.’ He did not sound as though he cared a toss for such rules.
‘The fashionable place to ride is Hyde Park,’ she informed him. ‘Even at this time of day those who wish for some solitude and a long gallop go there, leaving walkers in peace. I suggest you try it.’ Now.
He did not take the hint, but strolled beside her at a perfectly respectable distance, whip tucked under one elbow, the horse’s reins in the other hand. She could not have been more aware of him if he had taken her arm. What did he want? Probably, Phyllida thought, bracing herself, he was going to make some insulting suggestion now that he knew about her birth. He had kissed her by the river, flirted in the ballroom. What would the next thing be?
‘Hyde Park was where I was going, but on the map this looked a more pleasant route than finding my way through the streets. I did not hope to see you.’
‘Why should you?’ Phyllida enquired with a touch of acid.
‘To apologise.’
That brought her to a halt. ‘Apologise?’ It was the last thing she expected him to do. She stared up at him and he met her eyes straight on, his own green and shadowed by thick black lashes. Even in the conventional uniform of a gentleman—riding dress, severe neckcloth, smart beaver hat—he seemed faintly exotic and disturbing. But more disturbing was the expression on his face. He was not teasing her, or mocking her. She could have dealt with that, but he appeared quite serious.
‘For my rudeness last night. I have no excuse. I had just discovered who your brother is, so I was confused by your lack of a title, then I was surprised when Lady Malling explained. Your smile caught me in the middle of those emotions with my thoughts… unsorted.’
‘Do you have to sort your thoughts, my lord?’ It was such a direct explanation with no attempt to excuse himself that Phyllida felt herself thawing a trifle. Dangerous. Little alarm bells were jangling along her nerves. He cannot be anything to you and you do not want him to be, either.
